The Viper Chronicles: Tales From the Other Side
by Volitus
Summary: These are the interviews of the unknown cobras, the faceless soldiers that you normally never get to hear about. Some are now civilians, some are prisoners, and others remain inside the Cobra Organization. These are primarily based on the file cards.
1. The Leaky Suit Brigade

_As a kid, Cobra was always my favorite from both the toys and the cartoons. Particularly, the nameless soldiers. They always had the coolest uniforms and the most interesting jobs. What really captured my imagination, however, were the little quotes on the bottom of the file cards. There were usually these really interesting tidbits of info that were never conveyed in the cartoon. Even in the comics, many of these characters were never even used. So, this is my attempt to shed some light on what it must have been like to be a "__(insert-descriptive-word-here)-Viper". Some that I will definitely cover will be the Hydro-Viper, Alley-Viper, Techno-Viper, Heat-Viper, and the Frag Viper. This first chapter explores briefly the world of the Toxo-Viper/Toxo-Zombie, and to some extent, the Night-Viper. The chapters are broken up into individual interviews. Most of the file cards used are from the late 80's to the early 90's toy line._

Originally this story was written in an interview format, much like the "World War Z" Novel. I was worried that it was too close to a script format, so I changed it to a first person narrative. The dialogue is completely unchanged.

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**Chapter 1: The Leaky Suit Brigade**

The whole thing started with a man named Felix. When the story first broke, there had not been any recorded incidents of people leaving the Cobra Organization. Felix Stratton was the first. A former Cobra Viper, Felix escaped from Cobra Island in a hot-wired Moray Hydrofoil and never looked back. After his long and slow rehabilitation, he adopted the code name Mercer, and was recruited by Sergeant Slaughter himself as a Renegade. Word spread quickly. Shortly after, men and women from all walks of life were coming out of the woodwork, claiming to also have escaped the clutches of Cobra themselves. Some lied, seeking attention and their own 15 minutes of fame. But for most of them, the ordeal had all been too real. Coming out and telling their story was the only way to deal with the pain and trauma of the nightmare that they had broken free of. Mercer gave a single interview upon his release. It wasn't with me. At the time, I would've given anything to have gotten that exclusive. For all we knew, he may have been the only Cobra in history to ever defect. Luckily for me, that wasn't the case. I never got to interview Mercer, but through luck and connections, I had been granted the rights to write a book on former members of Cobra and would be given full clearance to interview anyone I felt had a strong enough story. I wasn't sure where to start, so I decided to start at the bottom.

The first interview that I would conduct was to be with a man named Vincent Tanner. The rehabilitation center in which he was being detained was like any other prison I had visited. In my short career I had already interviewed dozens of prisoners. Some that belonged, some that probably did not. Mr. Tanner, however, would be the first Cobra I had ever met. I had half expected to be led to a maximum security location, with rows and rows of magnetic doors, guards with automatic weapons and the like, but instead, I was greeted by a single guard armed with a only a side-arm. We nodded our pleasantries as the door was opened to the room in which I was to conduct my interview.

Mr. Tanner sat quietly at the small table in the center of the small space. The lights flickered sickly in the featureless room, casting a pallor over the large muscular man, his short-cropped black hair thinning at his temples. A large, deep scar cut through his left eyebrow. He smiled weakly as I pulled up a chair across from the table. I reached out to shake his hand, but the guard that remained in the room put a hand on his gun. I retracted my gesture and offered a "Hello" instead. The guard's hand relaxed, slumping back to his side.

"Hey," was all he mustered.

I told him my name and the purpose for my interview. He nodded politely at my legal spiel, but I could see it in his eyes, I was losing him. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to tell his story, but his courage was waning under the lights and pressure of the "press". I almost cut it short, not wanting to lose my interview before it even began. I learned early on interviewing prisoners that if you lost their interest, the rest of the interview would be worthless. When that happened, you'd have to do the dance, make it seem like you got everything you needed, and hoped that the next guy would deliver. I was required by law to finish my legal statements, so I did quickly.

"Shall we just dive right in?", I said, hoping to get him talking before he changed his mind.

He nodded.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Vincent Tanner, sir." He looked up, his gaze uneasy.

"Mr. Tanner, please explain why you felt the need, after all these years to come out and tell your story?" I kept my voice as professional as I could muster. They can always tell when you're faking empathy.

He straightened slightly in his chair. "Well, sir, I feel that it's just something that needs to be told. You know, lots of kids watch the rallies, see the ads on TV. Kids. Young, just like I was. Young, and impressionable. I don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone, man. Not my worst enemy. As... as for why I waited for so long to come out, well, you know... fear. Just... fear."

"Fear of what?", I asked, leaning forward slightly.

He answered, responding in kind. "You know... them. C-Cobra," he said, his eyes widening, "I mean, there's a reason why people don't just up and quit the organization. They're connected. Well connected. Your head would spin if you only knew, man."

"Let's talk about that. You say people do not leave the organization. But you did. What drove you to finally get up and walk out the door?"

His posture straightened even more, his true personality slowly finding its way out. "Ha, if it were only that easy. It wasn't like that. I was rescued. Damn angel in disguise, man. Never saw it coming."

"Someone... rescued you?" Interesting, I thought. I assumed he had escaped on his own, like Mercer.

"Yeah. Saved my worthless life. I was in it for the long haul. Once they toss your sorry ass in the 'Leaky Suit Brigade', there's no coming out." He spoke easily. I was in the clear.

"Please elaborate."

"The Brigade? Toxo-Vipers. I was a Toxo-Viper. It's a damn death sentence. Cobra uses it as an incentive to_ not _screw up. We were they guys they sent in when things went bad. If the Joes had the upper hand, if it was a lost cause, they sent us in. Shoot, most of the time when we did our thing, our own guys hadn't even been evacuated yet. Ha, I remember this one time, our forces were being routed by the Joes, getting our asses handed to us really, so they send us in. I remember that night... was damn near pitch black. We have night vision built into the suits, but the cheap kind, stuff you used to be able to buy at the Sharper Image. Civie junk. Not like when I was a Night Viper. That gear was state of the art, man!"

He wasn't looking at me anymore. His looked through me now. He was back there, reliving his past.

"You were a Night Viper before your demotion?"

"Demotion? Don't make me laugh. Slow execution. But yeah, I was a Night Viper. Four years, livin' in the dark. And guess what? I loved it. The organization itself scared the crap outta me, but man I loved being a Night Viper. I could put up with all the pep rallies and speeches by dear old CC, because I knew, when the sun went down, we got to play. Boys with toys, as they say. Shoot, for those four years I didn't see daylight once. The grunts stayed away from us. They were afraid, like we were vampires, or something. Night Vipers were nothing to be afraid of... unless you were a Joe. Toxo-Vipers... that's a different story."

"Explain."

"Some of the long timers... they ain't... human anymore. Zombies, man."

I feel a shiver down my spine. I didn't think he noticed. He's still not looking at me.

"Zombies?", I ask, trying hard to conceal my skepticism.

"Yeah. When you're in the brigade, they don't repair your suit, man. You break it, you better fix it, find some salvage whenever you get a chance. I took apart a B.A.T. (1) once for salvage just so I wouldn't fry in that damn suit. That radioactive sludge we spread around was nasty stuff. You walk around in that toxic crap long enough, it'll eat away at you. And not just your flesh, man. It... changes you," he mutters, unconsciouly scratching into his forearm with his nails. "You think that would be counterproductive for Cobra, but there's plenty of use for mindless drones. Not to mention the psychological effect of seein' a half-dead guy shambling towards you in a shredded bio-suit. We stayed clear of the zombies. Imagine how terrifying it was to the Joes." His lip forms a sneer. "Serves them right."

"What was the reason for your... transfer?"

"Oh, that," he says, snapping to. He briefly looks down at his arm, and drops both hands to his sides. "I refused to shoot a kid. Simple as that. Night insertion, small village near Macau. Our unit was interrogating a family for info. Our intel said they were harboring Joes. Was all lies. I learned that much, much later. Who knows why we were there. The Joes had nothing to do with it, that much I'm sure. So anyways, my CO orders me to execute this little kid. Boy must've been around 5. Snot and tears running down his face. I couldn't do it man. Not a kid. So I lower my gun, and the next thing you know I get hit from behind, and I'm out like a light. The next thing I remember was waking up with a migraine in the brig. Very next day, I was one of the damn 'Leakies'. Was the first time I saw daylight in four years," he says, his voice trailing off.

Sensing his withdrawal, I attempt to steer him back. "Back to your story. You were talking about your losing fight against G.I. Joe as a Toxo-Viper."

"Right, right. So we come in like gangbusters and start hosing the place down. Now, it's hard enough to see through that damned helmet, but add to that the cheap-ass night vision, and you can't see but a foot in front of you. And still, with that limited visibility, I was still able to spot James. James was my bunkmate and fellow N-Viper. Nice guy, James. I remember everyone liked him." He briefly cracks a faint smile before catching himself. "So there he was. Well, I didn't know it was him until I saw him up close. But I instantly recognized his silhouette as a Night Viper. I doubt any other Toxo-Viper would have. You see, the Night Viper suits are made out of synthetic composites. Makes them nearly invisible, even with infra-red sensors. Oh sure, they leave a visible trace, but only someone who's seen it every night for years would even notice. So anyways, I see James on the ground. He's unconscious. We have orders for complete ground cover. Screw that, I said to myself. James could owe me one." The smile again, which he allows to linger this time. "So I pick up his heavy ass and carry him all the way back to the rendezvous point. I'm not sure why I wasn't disciplined for leaving the front lines, but I never was. Maybe they figured being in the 'Leaky Suit Brigade' was worse than any prison cell."

"Tell me about your rescue."

"Oh, yes. I remember that day clearly. We were all in the mess hall having chow when the Joes bust in. Turns out they had a spy in with us. Told the Joes everything. Our location, ordinance, head count, everything. So when the initial blasts hit we were scrambling to get to our gear. Huge explosion tears half the building apart. I must've blacked out from the blast. When I came to, I was looking at sky. I remember how loud everything became. Like, in one single instant. Boom. I was in a heli. Not one I recognized. Then it hits me. I'm in a Joe helicopter. I have no idea what's goin' on, my mind is racing. Then, a familiar face. James. Grinning, like we were out having a couple cold ones. He leans over and puts his hand on my shoulder. "You're out, my friend. Now we're even." The damned spy was James. A Joe had saved my life. I remember I was so out of it I could barely speak. "James..." I said. I couldn't see him anymore, but his voice rang out like a bell. "Rest, Vince. And call me Chuckles." The helicopter landed about an hour later. I must've fell in and out of consciousness during the trip. When I woke, I was in a G.I. Joe Rehabilitation Center. I was out, and I was alive."

I intend to press further, but I notice his eyes welling up. His whole body shakes as he visibly tries to hold back his tears. I wait until he speaks.

"I never saw James again." He stares right at me as tears stream down his face.

And with that, a broken gaze, and a hand signal to the guard. The interview is over. The guard escorts Mr. Tanner back to his cell.

And just like that, it's over. I collect my belongings and wait for my escort out. The interview is shorter than I would have liked, but I get mostly what I had come for. Mr. Tanner has declined any further interviews.

Excerpt from _The Viper Chronicles: Tales From the Other Side_

(1) - B.A.T. = Battle Android Trooper.


	2. Chapter 2

_Here is chapter 2, after a very long hiatus. This one focuses on the often neglected Frag Viper. Hope you enjoy!_

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**Chapter 2: Fragged**

Julen Lazkano could have been one of the greatest Jai Alai players to ever walk onto the court. An up-and-coming prodigy from the tiny fishing village of Motrico, Julen was indeed well on his way. Unfortunately, Cobra had other plans.

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I nod to the guard as I pass him in the dimly lit hallway of the Joe Rehabilitation center. His returned nod barely registers in my peripheral vision. Fred, I believe his name is. He opens the door without looking at me. The staff all assume I'm here to exploit these men, Fred probably more so than the rest. I don't bother to explain myself to them. Monumental waste of time. I let them think whatever they want. It's not their stories I'm here for. Mr. Lazkano is already seated at the small table in the tiny room. He's in his mid-thirties, athletic build, short cropped black hair, with sharp, angular facial features. His unbuttoned white polo shirt is about two sizes too small. He stands up while I walk over to greet him. Fred eyes our every move. He watches me more carefully then he does Mr. Lazkano. Fred leaves the door wide open, but blocks the doorway with his body, arms crossed and face rigid, mentally daring anyone to try to push past him.

Mr. Lazkano, in stark contrast, is very polite. He shakes my hand as we exchange pleasantries. I immediately get the impression that this will be a much more productive interview than my first. Fred gives us a sarcastic shake of the head. Mutually annoyed, I shift in my chair so that my back is faced towards him.

"So, Mr. Lazkano, shall we get started?"

"Please, call me Julen," he says, sitting up straight. I detect a slight Spanish accent.

This is a proud man. He exudes it. Pride... and something beneath the surface.

"OK, Julen."

He smiles broadly.

"You were a Frag Viper, correct?" He nods, face turning serious. "Tell me how that started."

"I wasn't just _a_ Frag Viper," he says, eyes drifting off to somewhere in the past. "I was the first."

Julen's eyes drift to the floor. He gives out a large sigh, straightens himself, and once again meets my gaze.

"I should've known it was them from the beginning. Those bastards planned the whole thing from the start." He pauses slightly, for effect. "When my career was just starting to get rolling, BAM, out of nowhere, I get caught up in these false drug charges. I've never taken drugs in my entire life. Not for recreation, not for any type of performance enhancement. I mean, did I look like I needed it? I was at my peak!" He sighs deeply. "I should've known from the beginning..."

"You're referring to the Cobra Organization, yes?"

"Yes," he replies, anger brewing in his voice. "They destroyed my career in an instant. One night, after I had been celebrating a big win in Brazil, they drugged me in my sleep, and dumped me in front of a hospital. When I woke, I was in a hospital bed with heroin in my veins. The hospital called the cops on me. The police would later find drugs stashed both in my home, and hidden in the trunk of my car. My career was done. Two months later, I'm living in this dump somewhere in Tarancón, and out of nowhere, two men approach me on the street. They looked legit. They both wore these really expensive suits. Claimed to be from a company called Extensive Enterprises. They looked identical. Twins. They would've been impossible to tell apart, except one had a nasty scar on his cheek." He unconsciously touches his cheek, in reverie. He looks slightly embarrased, quickly shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. "Anyways, they tell me that Executive Enterprises is funding a brand new Jai Alai league. It seemed too good to be true. I had all but given up hope on ever playing again, and he come these two men handing me my life back on a silver platter. I signed their contract the spot."

"Were there any signs that it was actually Cobra that was doing the recruiting?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"No, not at first. After I was on board, they asked me to help with recruitment. I immediately called an old teammate, Serge. He jumped at the chance. In the league he was playing in, he barely made enough to support his family. He had two little girls." His broad smile returns. "I remember he always wore this gaudy silver necklace with these green and red hearts hanging from it. We used to tease him about it all the time. His little girls bought it for him on his birthday, so he wore it with pride. Serge was a good man..." His voice trails off.

"So once the team is formed, what happens then?" I try to bring him back quickly.

He snaps to.

"Oh... once recruitment was done, we get taken by plane to this enormous training facility. Spared no expense. The place was posh. I was told that our coach would be flying in in a couple days, so I was to get them started with drills and basics. It was nothing unusual, so we started to train on our own. Everyone bonded quickly. The enthusiasm from me and Serge definitely rubbed off on the others. It was great playing with him again."

"So at this point did anything strike you as odd, or out of place?"

He nodly slowly, remembering. "Yeah, yeah, I remember the cestas, you know, the basket we use to catch the balls? The cestas were strange. Heavier, and made out of some kind of composite. It was not the traditional cesta we were used to. At the time we just figured that it was a part of the new league. Like a whole new look for the sport, or something. We should've been suspicious, but we weren't. We were so happy to be a part of a team again."

"When did you learn the truth?"

"OK, so we're training on our own, bonding, all that good stuff, then suddenly the two business men come back, right in the middle of practice. That's when they drop a bombshell. Rather matter-of-factly, they come out and say, 'We are most sorry for the deception. We are not actually starting a new league. We are, in fact starting a new unit for the prestigious Cobra Organization.' I remember what they say verbatim, because they both said it together. They took turns, finishing each other's sentences. It was eerie. And, as if to anticipate our negative reaction, the one with the scar says, 'Those of you that will stay on as recruits will each get a $50,000 signing bonus.' All of us were dumbstruck. We all heard of Cobra. They were supposed to be the bad guys. We all saw their ads on TV, and the posters... trying to bolster their new public face and all that. I know what you're thinking. 'How could we fall for it?'"

I don't say anything. I don't think he expects a response anyways.

"The truth was, we were slowly being suckered in. The star treatment, the fancy things... we were all thinking the same thing. We all started to think that maybe these guys just got a bad rap. We thought, maybe it was just political propaganda that made Cobra look bad. Well, not all of us. Serge saw through it. He was stronger than me. Stronger than all of us. He took one look at me and knew that I was going to stay. He walks up to me and says, 'Julen, it's not worth it, my friend. I have my two daughters to think about.' His words really affected me. But not in a good way. I was angry. I remember screaming at him as he walked out. Called him some horrible, horrible things. But he was right. I was mad because I was weak. because I didn't have the strength to do what he did. To do what we all should have did. Walk away."

"They just let him leave?"

"Well, at the time Cobra was really pushing to improve their public image. And it was actually working. I mean, we stayed. Truth is, they bought our trust," he says, visibly withdrawing.

I feel Julen pulling away. I push past the subject.

"Once you are recruited as Vipers, what happened next?"

"Oh, that's when we found out why the cestas were the way they were. They were for throwing grenades, not balls. That's why the shape was different. They were supporting a different kind of weight. They called us Frag Vipers. I remember the suits they gave us. The helmets were so ungainly. It was hard enough playing the sport without heavy headgear, but with the helmets? Damn near impossible to see your surroundings. We didn't use the helmets at first. The first thing we learned was basic robotic repair."

"Robotic repair?" I'm not sure I hear him correctly.

"Yes, the B.A.T.s. Battle Android Troopers. We all were required to take courses on basic programming and repair of these things. They were to be our live target dummies. The courses were taught by Techno-Vipers. They didn't move too fast, but could be programmed to do a quick jog for short distances."

"So your training was repairing B.A.T.s, then tossing grenades at it?"

"Basically, yeah. To be honest, it was a lot of fun. At this point, it still didn't feel like we were a part of any kind of military force. We basically got to sit around and blow stuff up. Occasionally go to class. It was like slacking off in high school all over again. And it was close enough to Jai Alai to keep it fun. They all looked up to me. Most of them knew who I was before the 'drug' incident. I was the same rank as all of them, but they treated me like a superior. I worked them hard. After a while, we started to get pretty damn good at it. We'd start to make bets on who could get the most headshots. You lob a grenade at a B.A.T.'s neck just right, the thing's head would come clean off. They way the cestas were designed, you could lob a grenade with incredible speed and get some good distance too. And it was silent. That was actually the whole point of a Frag Viper. The enemy wouldn't know where the grenades were coming from. You didn't get the distinctive 'thump' like you do with an M-203. We were the silent bombers. Our first lob was always a smoke grenade. That's where the helmets come into play."

"Thermal vision," I chime in.

"Exactly. We all wondered why we didn't just get standard thermal goggles. Cobra Commander was all about appearance. We had to look terrifying while we did our thing. That still didn't make much sense since we were always shrouded in smoke. But one thing we learned, you never question Cobra Commander. The plan was to lob a smoke, rush in, and start lobbing frags. We were all anxious to start helmet training. We didn't like wearing them, but we had to admit, we did look pretty wicked in those things."

"Tell me about the helmets."

"Well, we learned right away that you had to watch your throwing arc, or you'd get snagged on your breathing tube. If you had a live grenade in the chamber when it snagged, it could pop out and drop at your feet. Luckily, that never happened to any of us. Also, A lot of us had to get used to throwing with our left hand, which you never do in Jai Alai, since Jai Alai courts don't have any walls on the right side. Cobra wanted us to be able to throw equally well with both arms. You know, in case you... lost one in combat. There was the standard thermal vision, and also a setting for Infra-Red."

"Was it difficult to adjust to using the thermal vision in a smoke layer?"

"We had a lot of thermal training. Only one time with actual smoke," he says hesitantly.

I decide to push, gently.

"What can you tell me about the smoke training?" I keep my voice soft.

His eyes drift away again. "That first day of smoke training starts, and we're all exited. It was going to be the closest thing to what we would be doing in an actual combat scenario. We were very exited. They set up the B.A.T.s in the center of the arena. Just standing there, not activated. One of the Crimson Guard solders tells us that since this our final stage of training, that they decided to mix it up a little. They tell us that the B.A.T.s are programmed to act unpredictably. No one pays any mind."

I notice his hand start to shake.

"Julen, we can take a break if you need to-" He interrupts me, not hearing me at all.

"So we pop our smoke rounds. Thermals go on. There's about 5 or so of the B.A.T.s. They activate, and 4 of them start taking cover, firing non-lethals at us. One of us, I think Francisco, hits one of the aggressors in the head. 1 down. The blast causes the one standing to start running. Away from us. Everyone starts lobbing at the ones charging us. One by one they all fall. I take aim on the one running away. Why didn't we notice? Dammit why didn't we notice?!" Tears stream down his face.

"Julen, you don't have to-"

"I think to myself, 'watch this, guys!' Trying to show off. I aim for it's head. The one running away. It was supposed to act unpredictably... The grenade takes the B.A.T.s head clean off. We all cheer. When it's all over, the Crimson Guard takes us out to the field as the smoke clears. I go over to the one I hit. On the ground, a gaudy silver necklace with these green and red hearts hanging from it."

We both sit silent for a bit.

I'm the first to break the silence. "You guys were loyal. Happy to be soldiers. Why would they do something like that?"

His eyes are bloodshot. "To prove our loyalty. But like you said, we already were completely loyal. It just proves how little Cobra Commander understands about real loyalty. Real pride. The only way he knows how to lead is through fear and an iron fist. He doesn't know a THING about real respect and loyalty. That son of a bitch..."

"Did you all quit after that?"

"We knew we weren't going to just be able to walk away. Man. Deep down inside, we knew we're going to be killing people. Pride... false pride kept us thinking that we were becoming solders. We didn't want to see what we were actually becoming. I think part of me knew that someone was in that B.A.T. suit. I didn't know it was Serge, but that's the point. I knew 'someone' was in there. We were becoming monsters. The very next day, we planned an escape."

"How many of you actually got out?"

His face is nearly expressionless. "Just me. The next day at training, at my signal, we all lob at the guard towers. We take most of the Crimson Guard out, but we don't see the H.I.S.S. tanks roll in behind us. Three of my men push me out of the way of the oncoming tank. Bastard tried to roll over us. Three of them dead, just like that. I don't know who, but one of them pulled the pin on their loaded grenade. blew the tread off of the tank that killed them. The rest of us ran. The same thing happened again. My men ran in front of bullets. One took a tank shell in the back. At the time I didn't realize what was happening. It went by like a blur. They were all trying to protect me. They all died to let me escape."

No expression.

"That's why you're here, isn't it? To tell the story of those brave men."

"Yes. They died to let me live. Their story needs to be told."

"I promise you it will. What will you do now, Julen?"

He looks me dead in the eye. "I want to put my training to some good use, for once. If they'll have me, I will join G.I. Joe."

In the corner of my eye, I see Fred nod in sincere approval.

_Excerpt from The Viper Chronicles: Tales From the Other Side_


End file.
